the scar
by Lawful Good
Summary: because even while the blood crept through the cracks in his fingers and the pain throbbed in his victory wound, he knew this was one scar he would not have to bare alone. dark. drabble series based around Naruto character angst.
1. The Scar

A/N: This was a poem I made for a creative writing class. I pretty much pulled it out of my ass. (That was an unintentional rhyme.) Looking back at it though, I noticed that with a few adjusments it fit the darker part of Naruto to a tee.

The poem format was lost for the sake of turning this into a drabble. Eh, perhaps it's too long to be a drabble now. A lot was added and modified for the sake of this as well. Prepare for some serious angst.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing.

**The Scar**

People were all too easily fooled. Smiles and pranks had fooled them all.

All his life, he had been alone. He had no family, no friends, he had nothing but his dreams. But even his dreams were not his own. They were brought on by the people around him, the people that would never understand or give a second thought about him.

Yes, he would make these people notice him. No. He would make these people _admire_ him. Respect him.

But no one would ever know how he could hardly sleep at night. No one would ever know that his perpetual grin was a fake. No one would ever knew what it felt like to be him-- to Hell with the cliche, it was true.

And no one would EVER see the scar.

He remembered the day, years back. But who was he kidding? All that pent up rage was bound to get loose sooner or later...

--

The twitching of his arm disturbed his still room and was accompained by the creak of his smile... His grim, knowing smile, that sounded like the scream of a slowly opening door as it upturned on his lips. The wall loomed above him. It stood with that disgusting over-confidence that he was all too familiar with. The same sickly trait that he saw in the eyes of nearly person he met.

Just like the cruel academy kids he remembered; the kids that sent him home crying, the kids that he never stood up to.

Just like the adults that covered their children's eyes when he passed by, then spat vindictive words his way that he never understood.

Just like everyone he'd ever know, that would tread over his heart with heavy stomping feet, like it was nothing but dirt on the ground.

Just like the people that would forever haunt his nightmares.

Until now.

He saw all of them, every single face reflected in the white finish in the wall. Some pointed and mocked, others coiled up in fear and the rest were sneering with murderous intent. Then there was him, small with cornflower hair and azure eyes that mirrored complete and unbounded fear. Those same ocean eyes flashed red for a split second. Anger swallowed his fear with the unforgiving mouth of a serpent in one single gulp. And in that moment, that same wrath extended his arm, tightened his fist and slammed a dent into the wall. Dust clouded from the blow and he heaved it all in, in one hysterical laugh.

Because even while the blood crept through the cracks in his fingers and the pain throbbed in his victory wound...

This was one scar that Uzumaki Naruto would not have to bare alone.


	2. The Bruise

A/N: So I decided to turn this into a drabble series of all the wonderful angst that the Naruto characters endure. :) This chapter will be focused around Sasuke. Next in line will be Sakura and so on...

If you'd like to suggest a character, go right ahead.

**The Bruise**

Sasuke, to Konohakagure, might as well have been the Messiah. Adults and teachers praised him constantly for his hard work and skill. Girls swooned when he'd just pass them a glance. Boys constantly prodded him to help them train and never failed to let him live a second without knowing how great he was. They all wanted his attention. They all wanted _the_ Uchiha Sasuke to acknowledge them. The (speculated) soul survivor of the Uchiha massacre, the rookie of the year, the last hope for the Leaf.

But he didn't want anything to do with them. Sasuke didn't need their attention and he certainly wouldn't give them his own.

He hated it.

He hated the attention.

He hated how everyone was trying to fix him.

Everyone was always sympathesizing with his past, like they knew how it felt and could take it all away. Everyone treated him with such high regard as they would the Hokage, if not higher. Everyone was trying to know him. Everyone wanted a piece of the Leaf's golden boy.

Everyone was always tending to what they thought were open wounds, deep cuts that would bleed for as long as he lived. They wrapped up bandages with their praise and love, made the blood clot with their immortal respect.

However, Sasuke bore no ever-bleeding wounds. The memories of his past didn't leave aching, bloody sores.

Just one black and blue bruise.

He could feel it on his heart whenever Itachi would lurk into his mind. And whenever it rained like it had _that_ night, the night he lost everything. And whenever he saw the solace in the eyes of his fellow Leaf villagers. He could feel it making his heart twinge and some days, he would draw a fist up to the left side of his chest and pound at the spot that hurt so much. He would hammer at the spot until his skin would tingle and go numb. Until he could feel the throbbing of his bruise cease for one moment...

Until it would return again ten-fold. Because no matter how many times he would drill at his chest, leaving true bruises on his own skin and swelling in his fist, the pain deep deep down would never go away.

These people just didn't know. They didn't realize that putting a bandage over a bruise only makes it ache more. They didn't realize that there was no blood to clot, and pressing down on it would only make the pain sting forever.

Sasuke's heart was purple--vulnerable under the bruise that had accumlated over the years. He ached and ached and only ached more when people tried to help him...when people thought that a stitch and needle or a bandage was all he needed.

That's why he chose to be alone.

Because bruises only heal when you leave them untouched.

Because even if he had to be in solitude forever, eventually, this feeling would die out.

And maybe, in time, the bruise would heal.


End file.
